


Never Too Late

by triste



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thank you for being born, his smile says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Too Late

Title: Never Too Late  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke  
Pairing: Kise/Kuroko/Aomine/Momoi  
Rating: PG  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

It’s Satsuki who calls them and arranges to meet up over the weekend. Daiki complains about it of course, since he’s the one who’s going to be driving, but Ryouta knows he doesn’t really mean it, that can’t wait to see Tetsuya again and, more importantly, to show off his pride and joy.

They’ve seen photos already, and Satsuki sends them new ones almost every day (Ryouta can’t really blame her, as he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop wanting to take pictures of Tetsuya with his cell phone, even though Tetsuya seems to think – or hope – he’ll get bored eventually), but it’ll be their first time seeing her and Daiki’s daughter in person. 

It’s a nice day, so they arrange to see each other at the local park. Tetsuya is reluctant to allow visitors into their apartment, partly because it’s a mess (which he blames entirely on Ryouta for owning more stuff than they know what to do with, and by adding to it constantly by showering him with random gifts), but also because he has an assignment due next week. Tetsuya has always been a book lover anyway, but his collection has grown exponentially after becoming a literature major in college. Ryouta built him a new bookshelf once, since Tetsuya has managed to fill up three of them already, but that ended in disaster, and also with him promising to never attempt woodwork again.

They even bring a picnic along, because even though neither one of them can cook properly, they can at least manage sandwiches. It’s great date weather, and Ryouta almost wishes it were just the two of them along together, but it’s impossible for him to begrudge Daiki and Satsuki, along with the newest addition to their little family, from stealing away Tetsuya’s attention when he smiles so fondly upon noticing their arrival.

It’s been months since they were all together like this, and there’s a lot of catching up for them to do. Satsuki has brought cake, along with yet more photographs, which Tetsuya promises to store away safely in the album he’s bought, and then it’s time to introduce the real star of the show, their daughter. It’s difficult to tell at such an early age who she’s going to grow up resembling, but Ryouta likes to think that she’ll inherit her mother’s good looks, and hopefully her intelligence, because it would be a crime for the poor girl to receive any traits from her father. Tetsuya, however, must see more than he does, because all babies look the same to Ryouta.

“She has your eyes,” he tells Daiki, who immediately turns smug.

“What, all mean and nasty?” Ryouta jokes, skilfully evading the fist Daiki aims at his skull.

“They’re intense,” Tetsuya declares.

“Tetsu-kun, you’re such a charmer,” Satsuki coos.

Personally, Ryouta thinks he’s been reading too much poetry (then again, he’s still sore over being forbidden from writing haiku as well as making any more furniture, especially after his most recent masterpiece, which if he remembers correctly, went something along the lines of _I love you a lot / you’re too cute and also hot / let’s have sex right now_ ). 

Still, it’s unexpected how gentle Daiki is when he lifts his daughter out of her carrycot, but then he supposes babies are very small and fragile creatures, and that even Neanderthals like her father know how to be careful around their delicate offspring. He doesn’t offer to let Ryouta hold her, not that he’s sure he really wants to (he’s scared of accidentally hurting or dropping her, or that she’ll take one look at him and burst into tears), but Tetsuya has no such worries, and immediately takes her into his arms.

Satsuki, beaming with delight, is quick to seize the opportunity, and whips out her cell phone to start snapping pictures. Ryouta is about to do the same until her daughter stirs, blinking up at Tetsuya with wide blue eyes (that aren’t anything like her father’s, in Ryouta’s opinion), and curls a hand around his forefinger. Tetsuya looks surprised at first, and then his expression softens as he brushes a thumb lightly over the backs of her tiny knuckles. Ryouta’s mind is filled with thoughts of _oh my god he’s so freaking adorable how is this possible it’s like he’s even cuter than usual_ , having completely forgotten about the baby in favour of fawning over Tetsuya’s irresistible charm, but then his features change subtly, and Ryouta has never seen him look this way before, never seen such a heartbreaking combination of longing and resignation, and it actually, physically hurts. 

He doesn’t realise that he’s staring until Satsuki tugs his sleeve, guiding him a short distance away so they can have a conversation in private.

“Maybe it was a bad idea for us to come here,” she says, her earlier excitement fading away into something more regretful, more considerate.

“What are you taking about?” Ryouta replies. “You know how much he’s been looking forward to seeing you guys.”

“Yeah,” Satsuki agrees, but her smile isn’t as bright as it normally is. “I just never thought he’d make that face.”

“Me neither.”

Ryouta stays quiet for the rest of the afternoon, and he’s grateful when nobody comments on it. Afterwards, when Daiki, Satsuki and their daughter leave, Tetsuya goes uncommunicative too, and they walk back to their apartment in silence.

It’s the worst feeling in the world, being so helpless and not knowing what to do about it. 

_Tell me how to make it better_ , Ryouta wants to say, but it just makes his heart ache even more. He could buy Tetsuya all the presents in the world, but he can’t give him what he really wants. 

He can’t give him a child.

For the first and only time in his life, Ryouta wishes he’d been born a woman. He wishes fate had been kinder to the both of them, resents it for being so cruel to his most precious person. Tetsuya has always loved kids, and it doesn’t seem right that he’ll never be able to have any of his own.

Even now, when he should be saving his concern for himself, Tetsuya offers it instead to Ryouta, along with everything else he’s given him over the years, and his fingertips are warm against Ryouta’s cheek when he reaches up to touch him, to let him know that he’s there.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, and it makes Ryouta want to cry, because Tetsuya is the one who should be shedding tears, not him. 

He knows Tetsuya doesn’t like it when he does things like this in sight of other people, but at the moment, he doesn’t give a damn what the rest of society might think, and draws him into his arms. It’s the only form of comfort and understanding Ryouta can give, small and insignificant as it may be, and all he can do is hold Tetsuya close, keep him safe and protected within his embrace.

Tetsuya sighs, not in exasperation the way he usually would at Ryouta’s public displays of affection, but like he’s letting go of the tension that’s been coiled inside his body throughout the day, resting his head on Ryouta’s shoulder and rubbing small, soothing circles over his back through the fabric of his tee shirt. 

“I love you,” Ryouta says, like he hasn’t already told Tetsuya the same three words a thousand times before. “I really do. You’re the only thing that matters to me. I –”

“Shh,” Tetsuya interrupts. “It’ll be all right *I’ll* be all right. You don’t have to worry so much.”

He allows Ryouta to hold his hand for the rest of the journey, and their fingers remain tightly interlinked even after the front door closes behind them, when they curl up together on the sofa. 

It’s not until later that evening when it suddenly comes to mind, and Ryouta’s smile is warmer, more earnest than before.

“Hey,” he says, nudging his toes against Tetsuya’s ankle, “remember when we had to fill out that career choice questionnaire in middle school?” He pauses long enough for Tetsuya to nod in recollection, and adds, “You put down kindergarten teacher, but then you erased it before you handed it in.”

He’s never forgotten anything about Tetsuya, and he doesn’t plan on doing so for as long as he lives.

“And?” Tetsuya prompts, raising an eyebrow.

“Change your major,” Ryouta urges. “It’s not too late. Get a teaching degree instead.”

Tetsuya looks taken aback, like it’s something he never would have even considered if Ryouta hadn’t suggested it. “I suppose I could talk it over with the head of my department.”

“Do it first thing on Monday morning. I’ll come with you.”

Placing a palm over Ryouta’s heart, Tetsuya smiles. “Thanks.”

And Ryouta knows it’s not just for offering to accompany him. Tetsuya doesn’t tell him, at least not in words, but it’s there in his face, plain for Ryouta to see.

 _Thank you for loving me_ , his eyes say.

 _Thank you for staying by my side_ , his touch says.

 _Thank you for being born_ , his smile says.


End file.
